It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas-9th December
by vivalafirefly
Summary: Kevin never managed to manifest as a ghost, and so just hangs around miserably haunting the bunker. Christmas turns out to be especially hard. Prompt: "Being a ghost and stalking your so, your family, anyone you like"


He'd never noticed just how cold the bunker was before. It seeped through to his non-existent bones, chilling him to his very, well he guessed you could only call it a soul.

Maybe that was why spirits always seemed so angry. Perhaps they were just cold and irritated. Kevin could sympathise.

He paced his way up and down the library, fingers almost brushing against the spines of the endless collection of books on the shelves. In some ways that was the thought that got him more than anything else. Thousands of books holding millions upon millions of thoughts, the last whispers of people long gone, never to be read, destined to be shrouded by dust for the rest of eternity.

It was so much easier to wallow when you only had your own wispy non-terrestrial person for company. He'd quickly got bored of trailing round after the brothers, they never did anything interesting. The Winchesters spent most of the time holed up in their own rooms. Plaid wearing bores. Their scintillating conversation only really seemed to extend to bitching, fighting or discussing cases. And the amount of times he'd inadvertently walked in on things he could never have dreamt up in his worst nightmares. He'd said it before and he'd say it again, Dean Winchester needed to get laid, fast.

Despite all this, Kevin couldn't help but yearn to be solid, if only for a few minutes. All he wanted was to say a quick 'Hello I'm here, please don't forget about me', to prove his existence, but every time he'd tried he'd only succeeded in flying off into a frustrated rage at his impotence. So now it was just Kevin. In the bunker. Practically alone. Only dusty books for company, and absolutely nothing to do.

It had been months since either brother had even mentioned Kevin's name and he was surprised to find himself increasingly having to temper down his anger. To be fair they'd had a lot of their own shit to deal with. De-demonifying Dean and all that. But that did nothing to sate the giant green monster steadily building itself up in Kevin's figurative chest.

Why did they get to continue with their lives as if the apocalypse had never happened, as if _he_ had never happened! What gave them the right when Kevin was still stuck on this plane listening to their endless banalities.

It only got worse when December hit, leaving the bunker looking like it had been attacked by a Christmas hurricane. Streamers and tinsel littered the place, contrasting starkly with the washed out grey of the stone walls. Every so often tinkling Christmas music would filter through the brash speakers, bouncing through the air and making Kevin's very essence vibrate. It was strange seeing Sam and Dean so smiley, sharing jokes over eggnog and watching crappy films together.

As December wore on the bunker became a hive of activity. Hunters from all over dropped in, laden down with presents and over-the-top Christmas cheer. Kevin hadn't seen a Christmas like this since before he'd become a prophet. They never threw a Christmas like this for him last year, when he'd spent the holidays slaving over the tablet, his only Christmas dinner consisting of vitamin pills washed down with extra strength coffee. This year everyone actually seemed genuinely happy to be spending time together, comfortable and cosy around one another. The entire bunker was awash with life. The entire bunker except for Kevin's dingy personal little corner. Well it figured, didn't it?

For one moment he thought that he hadn't been forgotten. Dean had cleared his throat and clinked his glass. He'd stood up, making a toast to all that had fallen in the previous year, and all that would join them in the next. He even mentioned Kevin, a lump forming in his throat. But that had been all. Just one measly little mention for the entirety of the holidays. It was laughable really. If anything, that half-hearted little toast just grated on Kevin's nerves.

Every laugh, every grin, every hug left Kevin feeling that bit more empty, and that emptiness was dangerous. It left space for those thoughts, the ones he liked to think of as the 'ghost thoughts'. They crept up on him, niggling in the back of his mind.

December was soon over. All the people left, and Sam and Dean returned to their usual morose and uncomfortable interactions. And yet nothing really changed for Kevin, and it probably never would.


End file.
